


vertical submarine

by hydrangeamaiden



Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Gen, I'm not good at prose but I'm Trying, attempted infanticide, child endangerment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 12:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13904001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrangeamaiden/pseuds/hydrangeamaiden
Summary: A collection of Little Nightmares drabbles.





	1. Chapter 1

The sun, peeking through the winter clouds for the first time, was the Maw’s cue to depart from the shore. The cold carapace of the Maw didn’t belong in warm waters, so away it went. It was one of the few ships these days that dared venture into open ocean.

The Maw rocked like a cradle in the waves that night. Its yearly docking had been a tiring one, and everyone on board was asleep. It would not have mattered to the Lady, who moved like sand through a sieve.

Although the very top of the Maw just barely peeked over the water, the Lady truly felt like she was standing atop the world. With a small bundle clutched in her arms, she approached the shore of the little ‘island’, all stone and brine.

It was a cold night, but the baby in her arms was candle-warm. The Lady peeled back yellow fleece to look upon its plump cheeks and feather-soft hair, as black as hers. Her long fingers lingered on its butterfly eyelashes and considered pushing its eyes out. No, if she wanted to do that, she wouldn’t have come up here.

The Lady knelt on the hard stone and put her child into the basket she had brought with her. The baby’s face scrunched up as it whined, but the Lady ignored the sound.

She could have given the baby to the chefs. She could have sent it down to the janitor to join the other children. She could have even eaten it herself. Anything but sending it adrift. The Lady was sure that even with her magic propelling the baby away from the Maw, it would not survive the choppy waves. It would not reach the flickering shoreline, growing more distant by the hour.

There was a slim possibility, though.

The Lady did not wait around to see.


	2. Chapter 2

The chefs were hard at work. So hard-working, in fact, that they didn’t hear Six sneaking into the dish pit. Her feet slapped gently against the warm, soapy floor, and she suddenly became aware of how cold the rest of her was. The tiles below glistened, revealing her grimy reflection. She staggered backwards like the Lady whenever she saw her reflection, and decided it was high time for a bath.

She finagled a pot from the shelves just outside the dish pit and pushed it up next to one of the overflowing sinks. As she dragged it away, it bumped against a tile that was unevenly placed against the floor. Six held her breath and ducked behind the pot. Much to her relief, though, neither of them noticed. Letting out a sigh, she retreated into seclusion and enjoyed her first bath in a long while.

She didn’t realize how filthy she was until she started scrubbing away. Layers of grime gave her pallid skin a grey finish that she had forgotten was dirt at all. Fingers worked at knots and tore out clumps that were but a pinch compared to all the heights she had fallen from. At some point, it had gotten longer, but she kept it under her hood so often that she just forgot about it.

Her raincoat regained its former luster. Her thin shorts and undershirt would no longer chafe her after they dried. Dish soap was harsh on her sensitive skin, but it was better than nothing, so she soaked while waiting for her clothes to dry.

Six wished she had a mirror. She remembered her old, the one that was round and almost as big as she was. A long time ago, she sat in front of it while her mother did up her hair.

Six sunk until she was up to her nose in water, and blew bubbles. No one would ever do up her hair again.


	3. Chapter 3

The first time he met Six was when he first came to the Maw. Without her raincoat, a golden beacon in the darkness, she looked just like any of the other captive children. Everything about her made her feel much older than she was, much older than the others. From her yellow dress, greyed with age, 

(one day even that would become unwearable, and she’d be forced further into squalor, fallen princess she was)

to the bags under her eyes, she gave off the impression of someone world weary and so, so tired.

He was hunched over one of the toilets, recovering from another bout of retching. He’ld get used to the swaying of the Maw, he had been told. His body would learn to rock in tune and he wouldn’t get sick anymore. One day there wouldn’t be enough food in his belly to be sick. Just a cup of water offered by a skinny girl with no shoes.

Not once did she speak or even look him in the eye, but she was more attentive than the other children. She had the energy to seek him out and offer sustenance. In the prison, food and drink was coveted the way the Guests yearned for their flesh, though he was unaware of it at the time.

None of them knew except that if someone disappeared for longer than a day they never came back. No one was optimistic, no one could be under those circumstances.

(the only direction they could go was downstairs and they all still had that fear of going downstairs in the dark, away from the glow of their night-lights if they were even afforded that luxury. no one could be optimistic under those circumstances)

Six was different. Six had energy, and enough strength for a bear-hug when he started to cry. The initial shock from being kidnapped had worn off and he was grieving. Six rocked him back and forth with the clumsiness one would use with a baby doll. That was rare, that was something she reserved for newcomers and those she knew did not have long in the Maw but it was enough to last anyone their entire stay.

It was the last act of compassion he ever experienced and the one that would give him enough hope to try escaping. Eventually.


	4. Chapter 4

They called him the Jolly Roger, but there was nothing Jolly about him. He dragged himself about the floor of the Maw with arms long enough to catch you from across the room, so if you wanted to run from him, you'd better be ten steps ahead.

The little girl with dark, tangled hair and pretty green eyes was the fastest of the children in her room, she was confident of it. During playtime while the others were stacking blocks and dangling their legs over the edge of the floor, she wore down her shoes in a full-tilt sprint around the prison.

The little girl with pretty green eyes and a frayed pink dress knew the cages left carelessly near their rooms weren’t there for decoration. Once in a blue moon, a few of them would disappear and then Jolly Old Roger would come for the sick ones, the ones who lingered too close to the edge and broke a bone, the close-to-death ones. And they’d never be seen again.

She figured that the other children planning their escapes that night would be louder than her, slower than her and would draw the attention of Roger. R-O-G-E-R, she had pointed to his name tag and read each letter aloud while her friends hung off his spindly arms. She was too clumsy to hold on to any of his elbows and had always stayed against his shoulder, butting her head against his leathery chin and laughing.

This clumsiness gave her away. The cry she let out tripping over a ball in the dark sent Roger waddling after her with alarming speed, and even when his hand closed around her waist she could not accept her defeat. 

She struggled and cried to no avail as Roger brought her back the way she came. She didn’t care that her sobs woke the other children in her room. A few of them lifted their heavy heads, only to lay them back down when it was just the Jolly Roger bringing back another escapee. 

Rather than stretch his arm across the room to deposit her into her bed as he often did at lights-out-time, he took the time to feel his way to her bedside and swaddle her in a ratty blanket. Now a snug little burrito, she could only whimper as he patted her on the head before leaving to continue her patrol. No doubt would she be on his ‘watchlist’ for trouble children and potential runaways from now on.

Maybe one of her friends would be lucky.


	5. Chapter 5

Six had originally taken the carrot with her as a snack for later. She knew she’d get those hunger pains again, and she wanted to be prepared. Of course, the Maw had other ideas. As she was passing through the kitchen, she noticed a grand pot bubbling away over a fire. It seemed that neither of the Chefs had done anything to it but boil the water. As she neared it, she felt her raincoat begin to stick to her body. More than ever she was aware of the carrot, a burden in her sweaty hands.

Six looked at the pot and saw an empty canvas. Inspiration struck, and she threw the carrot into it.

On the other side of the line of ovens, the Twin Chef was checking one of the ovens and didn’t hear her. He had a piggish, scrunched up face, but good eyes. When he plodded across the room, Six dived beneath a shelf and waited until he was turned away. All the while, her eyes were fixed on a fish head beneath his table.

The Twin Chef noticed her when she was about a foot away from the pot, and lunged at her with a furious squeal. Six threw the fish head in and skittered away to safety, stifling a chuckle when her adversary tried to look into her hiding place. Unlike the nimble Janitor, the Twin Chef was sluggish and sickly. When he had a coughing fit over a saucepan, Six used the noise to cover up her pattering footsteps. 

The last ingredient, a wedge of cheese, taunted her from its place atop a wooden crate. Not only was it right in the line of fire, but it was surrounded by wine bottles as well. Six sucked in her breath, cursed her muse, and made a break for it.

The ensuing chaos was probably enough to wake up the Chef Twin on the upper floor. The Twin Chef made a swipe at Six, who smashed a bottle of wine against the crate and flung herself onto the floor. She sprinted across the floor, jumped, and dunked the cheese into the pot. But there was no time to celebrate. There was still the Twin Chef, who Six wished she could’ve added to the soup, too.

The Twin Chef howled and plodded after her, meaty fingers just brushing against her coat before she leapt onto a shelf and crawled up to the rafters. He was left to throw a fit by himself as Six skittered away along the wooden beams. Her heart was beating so fast it hurt. Cooking sure was stressful!


End file.
